Wolffe had noticed the subtle changes- small hesitations, a stumble here or there, the way Plo Koon’s padawan seemed to mask something under careful movements. To anyone else, it might have passed as fatigue, the sort every soldier carried after a long mission. But Wolffe knew better. He had spent too long reading the men under his command.

Still, the young Jedi had carried on with the same determination as always, but each passing hour, he found himself watching closer. A fraction too slow in responding, shoulders drawn tighter, their eyes glazing longer than they should during briefings. He had filed it away, keeping count of every little offbeat rhythm until the tally grew too large to ignore.

The General's gaze had lingered as well, but he didn't say anything yet. The General trusted his troopers to watch his padawan, and Wolffe always did just that.

Then it all came to a head without warning. The padawan had been walking alongside the troopers, speaking with them when their steps suddenly faltered. For a moment, it looked as if they might correct themselves, but then their knees buckled, and their body gave out completely.

Wolffe moved fast- his hands caught their weight before they could hit the ground. Closer now, he could see the shallow breaths and nearly feel the fever warmth through his gloves. He resisted a sigh. He should've trusted his instinct.

Wolffe glanced briefly toward his men, giving them a nod. "Comet, go inform the General. I'll take them to the medbay."

As his brother nodded and set off, he looked back at the padawan, scanning their expression. "You with me still?"